Making time to read is challenging for me. It requires commitment and discipline, and if I don’t read with a pen and notepad in hand, all is lost.
Recently, I’ve discovered that I’m not unusual. I’ve heard so many others talk about the ever-growing pile of books on their desk or bedside table.
But there’s value in plodding through the stack. Over the past few weeks, I’ve gained new insights about good practices, about how “givers” differ from “takers,” about how real impact comes with vulnerability, and finally, an understanding of a new Greek word: luo.
When I first encountered that word, I had no idea what it meant. So I looked it up, and Google told me this:
Luo: to “loose” a person (or thing) tied or fastened; to release from bonds.
We find the word “luo” used several times in the New Testament: to “loose the cords” when Lazarus is raised from the dead; to “loose hostility” in Ephesus; to describe freedom in Christ as a “loosening of our sins.” The “luo” offered by Christ sets us free from selfishness and fear.
You know where I’m taking this, of course.
Much like reading, biblical stewardship demands discipline and commitment. But it also demands “luo.” I must be loosed from my self-centered attitude and the bondage of “me first.” I must be released from the selfish notion that I deserve material things and a secure future, and instead find freedom in trusting God for continued abundance and grace.
A stewardship guided by both discipline and “luo” is not stewardship for my own sake. It’s not about seeing my name in lights. It’s not about personal gain. This kind of biblical stewardship is an act of worship.
In that context, it becomes clear that stewardship isn’t about duty or obligation (though these habits can lead us to better places). Rather, stewardship connects us to true joy, to the fulfillment of serving a greater purpose.
Today, let’s apply “luo” to our journeys and commit once again to a biblical stewardship of time and resources.